An Autumn Wedding
by mocmocmoc2000
Summary: Tom Barnaby and Gavin Troy register their civil partnership under the new UK law. An autumn wedding in Causton.Midsomer Murders slash.


An Autumn Wedding

Rating: PG

Pairing: Tom and Troy, of course !

By MOC

Many elements of this story are true in fact or based on things written in Caroline Graham's books. I am at heart a researcher and it was enjoyable to mix fact with slash fiction. The following elements are from Graham's books: Joyce's favorite flower, the mirror Tom had made for her, attending the Sligo festival, the proposal at the Mon Plaisirin and the taking of the menu, Joyce singing Greensleeves "with a voice like a lark ascending," Kiki the cat, Bateman's surname and Tom's response to a call to report to his office, the Arbury Crescent address, Tom's willingness to admit embarrassment and failure at work, Tom's fidelity to Joyce, the incident between Gavin and his father, although I invented the dialogue. Simon is the name for Cully's husband in forthcoming MM shows. Unlike as written in the Graham books, she does not marry Nico in the television series. The following elements of my story are true in fact: the existence and website of the GPA, the sexual orientation survey for UK police officers, the GPA poster and seminars, the vacancy in the GPA membership secretary position, the photo of actor Ian McKellar with the coppers, the registration procedures and process for UK civil partnerships, the blessing given by the Anglican Church, the website for "gay" wedding vows from which Gavin's present to Tom was taken, the fact that due to harassment same sex couples are not required to give their home addresses, the civil partnership statistics and the incorrect estimate projected by the Blair government, Brian Paddick who is in fact the highest ranking openly gay police officer in the UK, and his "softly softly" expression which was actually concerning the enforcement of certain drug laws.

The usual disclaimer. These characters are not mine. I deliberately made this story romantic instead of overtly sexual. Men have been given a bad rap in many Western cultures. They can be as romantic as women.

**An Autumn Wedding**

By MOC

Tom Barnaby took off his wedding ring, wrapped it carefully in white tissue paper, and laid it in his jewelry box. Tomorrow another wedding ring would take its place.

It had been some eighteen months since Joyce had died. At home, as was her wish, surrounded by those who loved her: Cully, her husband Simon and the baby, Gavin, and of course, himself. Toward the end, the lounge had been transformed into her bedroom. She wanted to be close to the patio windows where she could see her favorite flowers, Lily of the Valley, in the garden and, in the evenings, watch her family come down the pathway to home. Besides, she said it was easier than trying to maneuver the stairs, although all her men, Tom, Gavin, and Simon, had insisted it was no problem carrying her up and down. Still, she asked to be given the lounge as her final bedroom and so it had been.

She had always been careful to have a yearly mammogram so the diagnosis of breast cancer came as a shock to the whole family. They had thought she was safe, with no risk factors and the annual monitoring, but they were tragically wrong. She had gone through every conceivable procedure to save her life, but in the end, she was at peace mentally and spiritually, and ready to die. For the first few months after her death, Tom had felt incredible guilt. If only he had not fallen in love with Gavin a year before, she would have died knowing that she was the only person he had ever cared for in that way, knowing that he had always been faithful. Instead, she knew about Gavin. Knew within two months of their becoming lovers. Joyce and Tom had been married for thirty years and were best friends. How could she possibly not know when his eyes, his smiles, and his voice reflected a growing besottment with the younger man and then, finally, the physical consummation of a love that could have destroyed everything he had so carefully built up and protected: his family life. Incredibly to him, she had accepted it. She had no intention of making him "choose" one of them over the other. On the one or two evenings a week he stayed over at Gavin's, Joyce filled her nights with other friends and other activities. She even told him several times she was glad that he would have someone to love and spend his life with when she was gone. Gavin revealed after the funeral that Joyce had said the same thing to him. "Take care of Tom. He needs you."

Tom secretly hoped that had the tables been reversed, he would have been so gallant and unselfish.

Gavin had given up his flat and moved in with Tom a year ago. The first night he was there they had gone to the master bedroom together, fingers linked, Tom leading the way. Once in the room, Gavin had paused by Joyce's dresser and touched the crystal Waterford lamp she had kept there. She and Tom had purchased it when they attended the Sligo Musical Faire in Ireland and Gavin knew it was one of her most treasured possessions. "I'm glad you didn't move this. I like to see it here and remember." Then looking at Tom with those blue, still innocent eyes that he so adored, Gavin added, "Let's keep things the way they were. I can just add my stuff."

And so the house remained pretty much the same. The menu from the London French Bistro, Mon Plaisirin, where he had proposed to Joyce and which they had framed many years later, still hung in the hallway. Family photos, both old and new, graced the rooms and once in a while, when he could allow himself to get past the pain, Tom played tapes of Joyce singing "Greensleeves," her voice "ascending like a lark" throughout the house.

But Gavin's clothes now hung with his in the master bedroom closet and the border collie he had rescued from the RSPCA kept Kiki the cat company while they were are work. And his computer station was installed in the corner of the lounge, so that when Tom was reading, he was "chatting on line" or "surfing the net," neither of which activities interested Tom. (Except of course in the line of research for a case and even then he preferred that Gavin do the actual "surfing.")

" 'Chatting' on line. Why don't you just use the telephone?" he would tease.

"Some people don't want to use their real names or have their telephone numbers out there. Or they just feel more comfortable talking over the computer instead of face to face or by phone."

"Sounds suspicious to me."

"If it wasn't for the chat room, I wouldn't have met Peter. And then _we_ wouldn't have met Peter and Kevin."

"Ah yes, Peter, the poster boy for the GPA."

"You like him as much as I do."

"Not _quite_ as much."

Peter Costello was one of Gavin's first computer "chat friends," found when he had checked out the homepage of the UK Gay Police Association. The bearded, smiling, relaxed face of Peter, in uniform holding a GPA banner, had caught Gavin's instant attention.

"Come look at these guys, Tom. None of them _look_ gay."

Ensconced on the couch, Tom had lowered his copy of the Daily Mail only long enough to inquire, "Do we?"

"What? Look gay?"

"Yes."

"No, you look like a straight copper and so do I."

"I'm relieved to hear it."

"Ian McKellar is here too."

"Who?"

"You know, the actor chap. He's at some sort of parade with coppers on either side of him."

"Maybe he's researching for a part. The Pink Panther. The Lavender Detective."

"Ok, don't come and see. I'm going to fill out a membership application on line."

And six months later, Gavin was not only a member of the GPA, but its "membership secretary." It appeared the organization had several vacancies in their volunteer positions and Gavin reckoned he could handle all the duties of that position over the net and through the mail. It was somewhat amusing to Tom to see his once "homophobic" sergeant defending the rights of gay police officers. Gays, lesbians, transsexuals and a litany of other designations with which Tom was not yet completely familiar. Over his computer station Gavin had hung a GPA poster: a line of officers in crowd control gear standing shoulder to shoulder, "Police" emblazoned on their body shields. One of them had "gay police" stenciled on his with the poster proclaiming its message, "The only difference you see is the difference we make."

Gavin was now fond of quoting Brian Paddick, the most senior member of the UK police force: "What does my sexual orientation have to do with my competence?"

When the GPA sanctioned "sexual orientation data" survey arrived at Causton Police Headquarters, Gavin had quickly ticked the box "homosexual" and turned it back in. He spent the next week pugnaciously waiting in vain for a joke or a comment from anyone. Truth to tell, he seemed a bit disappointed not to be able to launch into a mentally prepared defense of the voluntary survey and the concurrent campaign to recruit more gay and lesbian officers.

Tom had slid his survey under his deck calendar where it remained to this day. He and Gavin had long ago agreed to disagree about how they would handle the fact of their sexual "orientation" at work. Gavin had thrown himself into the task of trying to understand what it was that made another man attractive to him, reading numerous books on male sexuality and gay male sexuality in particular, and dashing off to London to attend various GPA seminars and support groups. Tom stayed happily at home, willing to hear the news on Gavin's return but not needing to do anything other than love Gavin with his whole heart, mind, and body.

As for ticking off a box, Tom did not see the world in the same black and white terms as Gavin. "The heart has its reasons of which the mind knows nothing." Life was too short to spend hours searching his soul to try and figure out if he should check the little box marked "bi-sexual." He had loved but two people romantically, erotically, and passionately in his life: Joyce and Gavin. To his mind, that fact had more to do with the persons of Joyce and Gavin than any sexual orientation tag. What had started out as bemused tolerance with Gavin had turned first to amused affection, then to close friendship, and finally to a loving and sexual passion that had shaken his world to its core.

If there had been a box that said, "I am Tom Barnaby and I have loved Joyce and Gavin," he might have checked it, if only to keep it under his desk calendar.

When it became somewhat common knowledge in the department that he and Gavin were sharing the house at Arbury Crescent, Chief Superintendent Bateman had called Tom to his office, a summons with which he was somewhat familiar but which he usually ended up hoping never to have to repeat.

"I understand, Chief Inspector, that Sergeant Troy has taken up residence with you."

"That is correct, Sir."

"And this is to be a permanent arrangement?"

"I expect so. May I ask, Sir, what this has to do with the Department?"

"When a junior officer sets up housekeeping with his superior officer, it does tend to get tongues wagging in the department, Barnaby. Granted, we can't run this place on the basis of rumor and innuendo, but on the other hand, we can't allow Chief Inspectors to make field decisions based on relationships, no matter how impersonal or personal, with their Sergeants."

"I am not aware, Sir, of any work decision I have made about Sergeant Troy that has been colored by his sharing my home." Tom tried to keep his voice steady, but even he was aware that with each chipped word, the level of ice in his tone increased. "In the event a specific accusation has been leveled, I trust I will be given the opportunity to respond to it fully and completely, with Police Union representation if needed."

Bateman paused and considered Barnaby for a long moment. He was not eager to lose an officer of his caliber or to engage in a losing battle with the Police Union. Or the GPA for that matter. Given the survey that the suddenly progressive Troy had turned in to the department, Bateman was confident he would drag them into the mess as well. Complete with screams of discrimination coming from some liberal, queer solicitator.

"Just be careful that you remain objective at work, Chief Inspector. What you do on your own time is your business, provided it does not impact the department."

"Thank you, Sir."

"That will be all."

Since Gavin had been aware he had been called to a meeting with Bateman, it was easier to simply tell him the truth than try and invent some subterfuge. Gavin was angry, but Tom could sense fear behind the anger.

"What if they try and reassign me to someone else?"

"We won't give them any reason to do that, Sergeant." Then more gently, "Will we, Gavin?"

"No, we bloody well won't. I stayed in Causton to be with you. To work with you. All those years when the time we had at work together was nearly all the time we had, except later, afterwards, for two nights a week together at the very most. They can bloody well get fucked. I won't submit to this blackmail."

Tom laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Hold on. We don't need to fight a battle that hasn't been declared. Things are to go on as they are. Partners during the day, lovers at night."

"But if"

" 'But if' causes a great deal of unnecessary worry and unhappiness. We've been given so much, Gavin. Let's be happy and enjoy it."

And that they had done.

It was a relief that Cully and Simon could, on the face of it, accept their relationship. Tom sometimes secretly wondered what Cully really felt, but he was not willing to go into that topic of conversation unless she brought it up. It was also a relief that George and Kathy Bullard knew and seemed to truly understand. George had first surmised the depth of his love when Gavin had been near death in the hospital and he had found Tom agonizing by his bedside. Tom reckoned that since both George and Kathy were doctors, their training had provided them with the current, more sensitive, medical outlook towards homosexuality. It didn't hurt, of course, that they had been friends for years: watching each other's daughters grow up and marry, becoming grandparents. George and Kathy cared for Gavin too, seeing him change from a somewhat bigoted, brash young man into a mature, tolerant human being. It was a pleasure to have them over for dinner where the four of them could be nothing more, and nothing less, than two couples.

Peter Costello and Kevin Pearse were frequent visitors too. Forty somethings, they fell in between Tom and Gavin's ages. Gavin had met them in London at GPA events and invited them down, presenting them like trophies to Tom. They were fellow "gay police officers" and for a time, Gavin needed their friendship to help him feel comfortable with the combination of his sexuality and his job. Tom, who had long ago broken two of the great taboos of police culture, admitting to both embarrassment and failure on the job, was less concerned with this, the apparent final taboo: to be both gay and a police officer. He did his job well. That was all that should concern the department, he said to himself repeatedly.

Now the fact that he and Gavin were lovers was public knowledge. Official, legal, public knowledge. They had had to give a fifteen-day notice to the Causton Registry Office that they intended to register as civil partners under the new Civil Partnership Law. Their names and their professions were publicly listed. Not their addresses, since same sex couples had been harassed in other UK cities, but Causton was small enough so that anyone who saw their names, and their designations as DCI and DC, would know who they were right enough.

It had been Gavin's idea. One night, after they had made love and Gavin was lying in his arms, he said, quite simply, "Marry me."

Tom's heart stopped for a moment. Thirty-three years ago, he had said a similar thing to a twenty-year-old Joyce. Now, Joyce was gone and this man who he adored was asking him to marry him. He was silent.

Gavin stirred in his arms and said, "If you don't want to, just say it straight out. I would rather have that than evasion."

Tom tightened his grip on Gavin, knowing full well how sensitive he was and how his soul yearned above all for love and affection.

"You know how much I love you. Are you sure?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

Tom's oldest fear wrapped around his heart. "You might regret it. Later."

"When later?"

"Later, when I am 70 and you're 40."

"42."

"Ok, 42. But you see what I am saying. I don't want you to have to…."

"What? Stay with you when you're 70?" Gavin raised himself on his arms and looked down at his lover. "Why are we being punished for our ages? I didn't ask to be born in 1972. What if it was reversed? Would you love me less? Would you leave me?"

Tom stroked the back of Gavin's head and placed his other hand on his cheek. "No, of course not."

"Then give me the same respect. The same option to make that choice." Gavin's words came tumbling out in a rush. "I want us to be married. I want us to register as civil partners. I want to wear a wedding ring, have a cake, invite Cully and the Bullards, and Kevin and Peter too. I've been thinking about this for a long time. Sixteen thousand people can't all be wrong."

"Sixteen thousand people?"

"That's the number of same sex couples that registered as civil partners in less than a year. Blair didn't think we'd hit that number until 2010."

"More GPA information?"

"No, I got that from another site. So, will you marry me?"

Tom considered as a jumble of thoughts ran through his mind. If only there wasn't a twenty eight year old difference between them. Once when they had been interviewing a witness in a murder case, Elfrida Molfrey, she had gushed, "How nice to have your son follow you into the police business." At the time, Tom had been mildly amused, but that of course was before. Before he and Gavin became lovers.

Then there was the bad business of Gavin's father. A nasty alcoholic who had terrorized the young boy and cut deeply into his self esteem. One night under the protection of darkness and a cuddle, Gavin had told him about the time his father had grabbed his hand and forced him to hit another boy in the face. The older child had been jiggling the chains on his swing, wanting his turn at it. Gavin, to his everlasting shame, had cried, which had just made his father taunt him even more about "standing up for yourself." "You don't want to be a pansy, do you, boy?" Tom had cuddled Gavin tighter before forcing himself to ask the question that lay like lead around his heart: "You don't think of me as your father, do you? Or as a substitute one?"

Gavin's response was immediate. "Not bloody likely."

Tom was realistic enough to know that if they married and went about publicly as a couple, there were many people who at first glance would take them for father and son. It came with the territory of such an age difference. It would be at best a Summer/Autumn wedding. But – Gavin's words were true. Why should they be punished for their ages? He looked deeply into the blue eyes and sweet face of this man he adored. There was only one thing to say.

"Gavin, will you marry me?"

So tomorrow was the day. They would go to the registry office with Cully, Simon, the baby (who would be too young too remember the day her grandfather married another man), the Bullards and the ever cheerful Pearse-Costellos. Thank god he and Gavin weren't going in for any of that hyphenated name nonsense. Gavin Troy and Tom Barnaby would do them just fine, thank you very much. Gavin was staying the night at a hotel with Peter and Kevin who had driven down from London. Not for a ménage a trios but for the much more traditional reason that his romantic Gavin thought they should spend the night before their wedding apart. After the official signing at the Registry Office, they were going to St. Margaret's for a blessing. Gavin had contacted a sympathetic Anglican minister who was more than willing to provide the religious element of their union. Then home to champagne, sandwiches and salad, and the white and silver cake Gavin was so insistent on.

"You only get married once and I want the whole shebang," he had said. Then realizing that this would be Tom's second marriage, a ghastly look of abject mortification came over his face. "Sorry, Love."

Tom laid the matter to rest quickly and easily. "No need to apologize, Love. I know what you meant. Just don't ask me to dress up like a penguin and have us look like twins."

The matter of the wedding vows was as easily settled. The law provided for the exchange of vows before they signed the registry. Gavin announced he was "going on line" to look over suggested "gay" wedding vows. Tom inwardly shuddered at the thought of what he might find there. Please don't let him want anything containing that simply awful phrase "significant other," prayed Tom. It always made him wonder where the insignificant other was. Thankfully, Gavin had declared himself content with the traditional Anglican ones.

"These are great. And the word they use is 'spouse' so that's fine all round."

Tom nodded. "Anything but 'lover'. I hate that word used in that way."

Gavin looked up from his monitor. "Why?"

"Because it isn't _big enough. _What I feel for you is more than sexual and when people hear the word 'lover,' all they think of is sex."

"When they think of two men together, all most of them think about is sex anyway."

"Well, thanks to the GPA and you, that is slowly, or as your friend Paddick would say "softly, softly" changing."

Gavin rolled his eyes and went back to the screen. "I have found some I want to give you though. In private. Before the ceremony. I'm going to print them off and put them in an envelope. You can read them the night before. When I'm at the hotel with Peter and Kevin."

Now Tom removed the envelope Gavin had left for him under his pillow, sat down on the bed, and opened it. Gavin had typed "Tom" at the beginning and signed "All my love forever, Gavin" at the bottom of the page. He read:

When things are confused  
I discuss them with you  
until they make sense

When something good happens  
you are the first person I tell  
so I can share my happiness

When I don't know what to do in a situation  
I ask your opinion  
and weigh it heavily with mine

When I am lonely  
I call you  
because I never feel alone with you...

When I have a problem  
I ask for your help  
because your wiseness helps me to solve it

When I want to have fun  
I want to be with you  
because we have such a great time together

When I want to talk to someone  
I always talk to you  
because you understand me

When I want the truth about something  
I ask you  
because you are so honest

It is so essential  
to have you in my life  
Thank you for being my friend  
Thank you for being my love

The beauty of the vows took his breath away for a moment. Tears stung his eyes. He wished Gavin were here so that he could kiss him, hold him, whisper how very much he loved him, melt their bodies together, enter him, possess and be possessed. _Gavin, Gavin._ How could one man be so lucky as to have found two such wonderful human beings to love and to be loved by…….

Tom went downstairs and poured himself a glass of Merlot.

They didn't look like penguins at all. Tom worn charcoal gray and Gavin dark blue. No one misspoke their vows, the registry form was properly signed with witnesses, the blessing given in St. Margaret's nave, and then it was home to what could be dubbed "an intimate reception – family and friends." They had not kissed in the registry office nor the church, but after the cake cutting, Gavin, with shining eyes had moved toward him and Tom had taken him in his arms and kissed him. For a fleeting second, he considered that this would be the first time Cully, or anyone else, had seen them kiss, but for god's sake, it was their wedding, and he was not going to deprive Gavin of this special moment. No one seemed upset, although he avoided Cully's eyes for a few moments. He was going to have to work on that, he chided himself briefly. Cully was an adult woman, no longer his little girl. Surely she knew enough about the complexities of the human heart by now to understand his love for Gavin.

After everyone left, Gavin started cleaning up.

"Leave it. Let's go to bed."

Gavin smiled. "Now that you've made an honest man of me, Sir?"

"You were always an honest man, Gavin. That's one of the reasons I love you so very much."

Later, as they lay peacefully in each other's arms, Tom said, "I want to thank you for the rings. You were right. They needed that inscription inside of them."

Gavin turned more into Tom and rested his head on his chest. There was nothing more in the world that either of them needed.

"My Beloved is mine and I am his."


End file.
